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Summary
"You’re staring," Ash teased, though his voice lacked the sharpness of his usual banter.
Wilbur’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Maybe I am."
The air inside the car thickened, a palpable charge crackling between them. Wilbur didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned in further, his fingers tightening slightly on Ash’s thigh, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric. His eyes were locked on Ash’s, the lazy smirk that often played on his lips giving way to something deeper, something needier.